FACE Family- The Parent Trap
by Raven-Shinigami
Summary: Canada and America were separated very early on in life when their parents (France and England) divorced. But, as fate would have it, they meet up years later at a summer camp. Although they have no recollection of each other, the striking similarities between them are impossible to ignore. And the rest, as they say, is history. AU. IDK, slightly OOC. Depends on how it progresses.


**Rae-Rae! What is wrong with you?! You have, like, fifteen other fics that you're in the middle of writing! Why must you go and start a thirty-something chapter project?! (Because I'm an idiot? Probably.)**

**Relax, peeps. I know that the characters included do not encompass England or France. That's simply because they haven't made an appearance yet. I will change things as I go along, so please bear with me.**

**Yes, I do know that this is an entirely unoriginal idea. It's been done before. However, I think it goes without saying that different people have different products, even if it's about something similar. Plus, after the doodles I saw from ExclusivelyHetalia on deviantART, I just ****_had_**** to jump onto the bandwagon and write something for it. So sue me.**

**Also, ExclusivelyHetalia has given me permission to use quotes from their doodles, so you will be seeing some of these quotes later on.**

**I may have to postpone the continuation of this due to 5 essays I need to write. I will post as soon as I can, though.**

**Oh, and I have the script for ****_The Parent Trap,_**** which means you may see a few (okay, maybe a little more, you get the point) quotes directly from the movie. But I will definitely try to start moving away from that sort of thing as it progresses, because I like being more creative. I just needed a place to start, y'know?**

**As we all know, neither Hetalia nor The Parent Trap belong to me. So I only want to say the disclaimer once. Please do not bother me if I don't put a disclaimer on later chapters. I will if I feel like it, but don't count on it. Also, the story image is from ExclusivelyHetalia. It's their doodle page, so sorry if you can't really see it.**

* * *

Matthew tentatively stepped off the bus, hugging his toy bear (he had to leave Kuma at home) close to his chest. Bus horns honked, signaling that the first day of camp had officially begun. Taking a quick look around, Matthew saw an innumerable amount of boys milling about. Tall boys, short boys, and everything in between seemed to be represented somewhere in the immediate vicinity. Many of them held pillows, some—like Matthew—carried stuffed animals, and all of them had backpacks. Counselors tried to control the chaos, but had very little success. Matthew watched as the bus drivers climbed from their buses to toss duffel bags in a great heap nearby.

He caught sight of his bag on the top of the pile. Weaving his way carefully through the crowd, Matthew tried in vain to reach the heap quickly. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a rather tall man with a bullhorn. Two men stood beside him, one also with a bullhorn, and the other one with a clipboard. Curious, Matthew slowed his pace to observe them. The tall man—who, oddly enough, was wearing a scarf despite the soaring temperature—lifted his bullhorn to his mouth and began speaking into it.

"Good morning, little boys, and welcome to Camp Walden. I am Ivan, your Camp Director, and this is my right hand man, Toris. And the one with the clipboard here is my younger brother, Nikolai Arlovskaya. Toris will be doing the reading off of bunk assignments now, da?"

Toris was handed the clipboard with the bunk assignments on it and began speaking into his bullhorn.

"Berg, Kelvin, Iroquois, bunk seven. Berg, Lium, Chickasaw. bunk five!" Somewhere off in the throng, Matthew heard a loud exclamation of joy. Toris continued reading off names, fidgeting slightly under Ivan's watchful gaze.

"Uhm… Burnham, Dylan, Kickapoos, bunk three!" The bunk assignments went on, and Matthew started for the pile of duffel bags once again. And there it was! His orange duffel! A bright smile spread across his face, and he began heading over to the bag. However, before he reached it, a bus driver came along with another group of duffels and dumped it on top of the pile—right on his bag.

"UWAAAHHHHH!" Matthew exclaimed before he could stop himself. He rushed up to the big pile and gazed mournfully at the orange bag in the middle of the pile.

"Okay, here's my bag, now the question is, how do I get it out?" he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. He buzzed around the pile, unsure of how to proceed.

"Alright, I can do this!" he eventually told himself, setting his toy bear down on the top of the the end of the bag in both hands, he began to pull and tug ineffectively on it. Matthew started to grow frustrated with the duffel's unwillingness to move, and with one particularly strong tug, he began drawing it out from the middle of the pile. Unfortunately, another kid came along with two of his friends—Matthew judged them to be around 16 or 17—and jostled him out of the way. Laughing at some unknown joke, they shoved Matthew's toy polar bear off the pile and reached for their bags.

"No!" Matthew yelled, diving for his bear.

"Kesesesese, look at ze unawesome loser!" he heard the white-haired boy remark to his friends as they strutted away with their duffels.

"D-dumb peacocks…" Matthew whispered to himself as he watched the boys go. After a brief moment, he sighed quietly and turned back to the pile, steeling himself for more fruitless tugging and pulling on his bag.

_I can't believe it—only my first day here and already I'm having a hard time. Hopefully, things get better for me…_ he thought to himself.

Just then, a boy a little older than Matthew wandered over to the pile. He had dirty blond hair and periwinkle eyes, and had his dark blue duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "You must be new here," he observed casually, watching Matthew stare at the pile of bags.

"How could you tell?" Matthew asked timidly, not sure whether the comment had been meant as a put-down or not.

"'Cause. You didn't know that you should've grabbed your duffel before those apes got to it. Or that your bag would end up getting crushed under a pile of other ones."

"Well, what about those three boys that I just saw?" Matthew inquired innocently.

"Oh. _Them._" His voice dripped with malice. "Let's just say, they're an exception. I mean, some other people are able to pull their bags out, but those three seem to be an exception for _everything._ They're _always_ together, and they're just _awful._ You do not want to mess with them."

"…Okay. I guess that's good to know."

After a moment's pause, the other boy spoke again. "So, do you need a hand?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you so much!" Matthew felt a great surge of relief at finally having found a friendly person, and that his bag would soon be rescued from its current position beneath the weight of numerous other duffels.

"So, um, which is yours?" asked the other boy.

"Eh?! Oops! Sorry, sorry. It's the big orange bag. There, see?" Matthew gestured at his duffel.

Nodding, the other boy stepped forwards to stand next to Matthew, and the two of them began struggling to pull the duffel from the heap. As they began this endeavor, several bus drivers tossed another half-dozen bags onto the pile. Shooting the drivers a look, the other boy dropped his arms and sagged, looking like he was about ready to give up.

A boy with dark hair in dreadlocks and a tan then strode over to the pile, extracting his dark green duffel form the heap with astonishing ease.

"Um… should we… do you think maybe we should ask him for help?" Matthew addressed his newfound friend, gesturing to the boy with the green bag.

"Sure, why not?"

"Hello? Excuse me?" Matthew tried calling to the boy. Unfortunately, he was far too quiet to be heard over the hustle and bustle all around.

"Here, let me try. Hey, you! Yeah, you! The one in green with the green duffel! Over here!"

That sure got his attention. The boy turned and started over to them. He did not look particularly happy to have been called over by complete strangers, nor did it seem as though he appreciated being addressed in such a manner.

"Hello… uh, would you mind giving me a hand? My bag is sort of stuck. It's the orange one, in there," Matthew said to the boy, pointing out his bag. The dark-haired boy nodded silently and dropped his bag, which landed directly on the foot of Matthew's friend.

"Are you alright?" Matthew asked his friend, a look of concern on his face. His friend simply shook his head in reply, clutching his foot and inhaling sharply.

"Oh, I just realized; I never caught your names," Matthew commented mildly, suddenly realizing how stupid he'd been, not even bothering to ask for that information.

"I'm Ashton. Ashton Dmitri Williams," said the blond boy, apparently already recovered from the whole bag-landing-on-his-foot thing.

"I'm Matthew Bonnefoy." The two of them turned their heads to the dark-haired boy, expecting some kind of introduction. By now, he had freed Matthew's bag from the pile. He dropped it, right onto Ashton's other foot.

"Gahhh! Stop doing that!" Ashton exclaimed painfully.

"Hi, I'm Carlos Machado," said the tan boy, turning towards Matthew and not even acknowledging the complaint by Ashton. Carlos extended his hand for Matthew to shake. Matthew shook his hand briefly, whereupon Ashton interrupted by saying, "Okay, okay. Lovely handshake. Moving on."

"Hey," said Carlos, noticing what Matthew's duffel tag said. "You're from France?"

"Wait, you're from France? So, like, do you live in Paris?" Ashton chimed in (he sure does bounce back quickly, huh?).

"Does your bedroom have a good view of the Eiffel Tower?"

"Well, actually, no. I've been to Paris a few times, but I don't live there; I live more to the south. Also, I live next door to a vineyard." At this point, Matthew was feeling safer and more comfortable around his two new friends, and found himself opening up a bit more to them.

"Wait, a what?"

"A vineyard. You know, it's where grapes are grown to make wine. That's what me and my dad do—we own a vineyard. Oh, and by the way, which bunk are you guys in?"

"Arapaho," they said in unison. They eyed each other, clearly not pleased with their bunk assignments. That was when Toris called Matthew's name over the bullhorn. "Bonnefoy, Matthew!"

"He's right over here!" yelled Ashton, waving his arms and pointing at Matthew with over-exaggerated movements.

"Arapaho, bunk eleven!" Toris informed them.

Carlos, Ashton, and Matthew slapped their hands together and began heading towards their bunks.

"Hey, you guys. I was just wondering… do, by any chance, either of you know how to play poker?"

Both Ashton and Carlos shook their heads, making it abundantly clear that they did not.

"Oh, well… that's a shame… And I don't mean to be rude, but how much cash did you two bring this summer?"

As the three of them walked off, a limousine pulled up in front of the main lodge. The appearance of such a car turned many heads, all belonging to people curious as to who would step out of the limo.

Out came the driver, who was wearing a dark suit and cap. He held the limousine's back door open as a proper British butler stepped out. The butler had on an elegant gray suit, and displayed perfect posture and mannerisms. He leaned into the back seat and helped a fancily dressed boy by the name of Alfred Kirkland out of the car (as a courtesy, of course—Alfred didn't actually require the help).

Alfred, too, wore a suit—his was navy blue—as well as a tie of the same color. But perhaps the most remarkable thing about him was his appearance. One would be hard-pressed to not notice the similarity between him and Matthew Bonnefoy. After all, he had the same hair color, nose, eyes, and height as the other boy.

* * *

**Long(ish) chapter. Meh. Whatever.**

**Well, what do you think? I also need your opinion on who the butler should be...I'm having trouble figuring that out.**

**Again, please be patient; I am working as fast as I can. Don't judge me! TAT**

**Romano: I see that the tomato bastard made an appearance in this. Am I going to.**

**Rae-Rae: Don't worry Lovi, you might.**

**Romano: Chigi! Don't call me 'Lovi'! It's 'Lovino Varagas' to you!**

**Rae-Rae: Oh, okay. Sorry. *goes and dies in a hole***

**Just so you guys know, I'm putting all my other fics on hold for the moment while I work on this (and possibly a Canadarella one, too-yes, Rae-Rae is very fond of bandwagons).**

**See you all in the next chapter! (assuming you'll be there)**


End file.
